While I generally like to keep the writing I do on my blog and the writing I do elsewhere separate, I have been wanting to feature more travel-related food writing on A Sweet Spoonful so I’m carrying this one over. I wrote this piece for Bay Area Bites this week. If you live in the Bay Area or ever plan to visit, Boonville is still a bit off-the-beaten track and absolutely worth checking out.
I’d driven through Boonville with my Dad and my sisters once, all too briefly en route to Mendocino. We stopped at the Boonville General Store for a sandwich and sat outside admiring the coolness of the little stretch of road and the delightfully slow pace of life. All along Hwy 128 there were orchards, farm stands, hidden hiking trails, and–of course–vineyards. I vowed to come back and do some exploring.
It did take me a good three years, but I returned last Friday for a one-day getaway with a dear friend, good wine, and great food. I’d actually wanted to make a weekend of it, stay at the Boonville Hotel and wile away a few days–but reality precludes such leisure at the moment, so we set out early and packed in as much as we could. A two hour (ish) drive, a stop at Flying Goat Coffee in Santa Rosa for a little extra fuel, and we found ourselves in Anderson Valley (115 miles N of San Francisco on Hwy 128) right around lunchtime on a quiet, sunny fall day. Not only were we delighted by what we found, we both vowed to come back soon–and to stay just a bit longer.
The Boonville General Store
Lunch at the Boonville General Store
Right across from the Boonville Hotel sits this friendly, bustling café. Don’t let the name fool you. While they do have great provisions for picnics or treats to take home, it’s more a spot for creative, organic meals than it is a place to pick up a gallon of milk. They have cheeses, olives, amazing baked goods, jams, and pestos to grab-and-go for the road. But the idea is to take some time and eat there, either at one of the rustic indoor tables or on the breezy outdoor patio. For lunch, we shared one of the house pizzas and a sandwich of the day.
The pizza had a super thin-crust (automatic ten points in my book) and was made with goat cheese, caramelized onions, local pears, bacon, and sage. The slightly sweet crisp of pear balanced with the earthy goat cheese and salty bacon made for a perfect bite. The sandwich was equally good: an organic turkey melt with Swiss cheese, lettuce, tomato, and pesto on housemade honey wheat bread. We grabbed a few pieces of homemade candy corn for the road (would love to track down their recipe for these) and lingered a bit on the patio mapping out our next move. I hear on weekends the place is a mob scene with cyclists and bikers, so if you’re looking for peace and quiet, Sunday may not be your day.
After lunch, we wandered down the road to the Farmhouse Mercantile, a local shop that stocks everything from unique kitchen tools, to vintage papers, paintings, tablecloths and local preserves. The owners are the folks behind Philo’s Apple Farm, and they certainly have a brilliant eye for unique home and garden goods. They’ve hand-selected products you don’t see in your everyday chain stores. From tiny whisks to mini Lodge cast-iron pans sized perfectly to fry a single egg (sheer brilliance), they’ve got it all. A sweet spot for gifts or to treat yourself to a post-lunch treat–precisely what I did with a new, shiny corkscrew. There’s an adjoining café so while you’re browsing, you hear the pleasant din of dishes clanking–fitting indeed.
Before continuing on down the road, we backtracked a few blocks, turned down Highway 253, and quickly discovered the Anderson Valley Brewing Company. Now you can get their bottled beers in select grocery stores, but I was eager to see where they’re made and try some of the seasonal brews. If you’re into factory tours (we’re not), they offer them daily at 11:30 am and 3:00 pm. If you like disc golf (we don’t), there’s that, too. And if you enjoy sampling numerous beers out of small glasses (we do), then you’re in for a treat. They offer a few different samplers, ranging from 5 glasses to 12 glasses. After a pretty lengthy discussion and unsolicited input from our fellow bar-mates, we decided on the 6 glass sampler with the Hop Ottin’ IPA, Boont Amber Ale, Winter Solstice, Deep Enders Dark Porter, Oatmeal Stout, and Brother David’s Triple Triple Ale. Let’s get the negatives out of the way first: Brother David’s is, in my humble opinion, some pretty raunchy beer. When I asked the gal at the bar what the story was, she didn’t have much to offer. She said it was a strong ale in the typical Belgium tradition. Hmm, I appreciate a Belgium beer just like the next girl, but this was different. It was incredibly strong, cloyingly sweet, and tasted much more like sherry than like beer.
But moving on, the Winter Solstice Seasonal Ale was absolutely delightful. It literally tastes of winter and afternoons by the fireplace, with a creamy flavor and hints of spice. And if you like IPA’s, theirs is hoppy and citrusy while the Deep Enders Porter is smooth with coffee undertones. We had a great time sampling and rating the beers and chatting with other locals and visitors. Do know that they don’t serve food here. I was envisioning more of a rustic, pub-style atmosphere for some reason, but in reality, it’s quite spare and airy. People brought pooches, families, Frisbees, and even a few picnic blankets. As I’m writing this, I’m reminded of how much I regret not getting a case of the Winter Solstice to take home, and how I need to seek it out here locally. Pronto.
Right up the road about 5 miles (northwest of Boonville on Hwy 128) is a small family farm with a lot of appeal. Upon turning down the little gravel road, you’ll notice the farm stand first. They believe in eating in season and eating as minimally processed food as possible. Their website reads:
“Food preservation is a time honored way of stretching the harvest bounty between seasons. In our not too distant past it was an absolute necessity for our rural population. Many of the techniques and recipes that used to be handed down from mother to daughter are being lost in our fast-paced times. We hope to carry on the tradition.”
The farm stand is their way of carrying on this tradition. They sell a variety of local apples and their own jams, chutneys, syrups, and vinegars. I can’t remember the last time I saw a place where you pay using the honor system. But here, you mark down what you took on a clipboard, drop your money in a slot, and call it a day. Beyond the stand itself, there are beautiful grounds open to the public where you can explore the orchards, hidden little paths, the gardens, and the pigs and roosters. If you’re lucky, the resident dog with two different colored eyes will give you the grand tour.
Besides the farm stand, you can opt to stay at farm in one of their cottages. I haven’t had the pleasure myself, but they look fantastic. Each cottage is unique in design and has its own porch and fireplace. From what I gather, if you’re the type of person who loves good room service and a nightly turndown, this isn’t your place. It’s more independent and private–just as you’d expect after a quaint and secluded visit to the farm.
Before we headed home, I wanted to stop at Toulouse Winery after a few locals suggested that they had some of the best Pinot around. Little did I know, they have way more than that. Vern and Maxine Boltz began the boutique winery post-retirement in a quest to become growers and do something creative with their days. The Boltz’s do all of the winemaking and bottling on site–they even live above the winery.
From the affable winery dog, Tess, to the warm owners who were doling out recipes and advice on the most scenic route home, you can tell they genuinely love what they do and want to share it with their visitors. The thing that often turns me away from wineries and wine tasting is all of the pretension and artifice. It makes me sweat. At Toulouse, I was calm and collected. The tasting room is in a warehouse-type space with barrels set up as causal tables, a concrete floor, and a bunch of dogs roaming around. My kind of place. They give you tasty cheese crackers, are laid back in their presentation of wine education, and there’s’ no pressure or expectation to buy–although we did. In addition to Pinot Noir, the region’s also well known for Gewürztraminer, a slightly sweet white wine. While I generally don’t love sweeter wines, Toulouse’s was subtle and had distinct floral notes that were surprisingly refreshing. Vern mentioned he’d been looking for the perfect breakfast wine for quite some time, and he’d finally nailed it. It was hard to leave Tess, Vern and Maxine behind, but it was growing dark and we had big plans of going the long way home–and returning soon.
Philo Apple Farm
18501 Greenwood Road
Philo, CA 95466
4111 Hwy 128
Boonville, CA, 95415
Hours: Thurs.-Mon. 11am-5pm (closed Tues.-Wed.)
Anderson Valley Brewing Company
17700 Hwy 253
Boonville, CA 95415-0505
Hours: Daily 11am-6pm (with the exception of Fridays, 11am-7pm)
8001 Hwy 128 (P.O. Box 152)
Philo, CA 95466
Hours: Mon.-Sun 11am-5pm
Winter Comfort Food
I intended on baking holiday cookies to share with you today, but when I sat down to brainstorm all I could think about, truly, was the morning porridge I've been making and how that's really what I wanted to send you away with. The holiday season always seems to zoom on by at its own clip with little regard for how most of us wish it would just slow down, and this year feels like no exception. We got our tree last week and I've been making a point to sit in the living room and admire the twinkle as much as possible. I have lofty goals of snowflakes and gingerbread men and stringing cranberries and popcorn, but I'm also trying to get comfortable with the fact that everything may not get done, and that sitting amongst the twinkle is really the most important. That and a warm breakfast before the day spins into gear. This multi-grain porridge has proved to be a saving grace on busy weekday mornings, and it reheats beautifully so I've been making a big pot and bringing it to work with some extra chopped almonds and fresh pomegranate seeds. While cookies are certainly on the horizon, I think I'll have this recipe to thank for getting us through the busy days ahead.
We returned home from San Francisco on New Years Eve just in time for dinner, and craving greens -- or anything other than baked goods and pizza (ohhhh San Francisco, how I love your bakeries. And citrus. And winter sunshine). Instead of driving straight home, we stopped at our co-op where I ran in for some arugula, an avocado, a bottle of Prosecco, and for the checkout guys to not-so-subtly mock the outlook of our New Years Eve: rousing party, eh? They looked to be in their mid-twenties and I figured I probably looked ancient to them, sad even. But really, there wasn't much sad (or rousing, to be fair) about our evening: putting Oliver to bed, opening up holiday cards and hanging them in the kitchen, and toasting the New Year with arugula, half a quesadilla and sparkling wine. It wasn't lavish. But it's what we both needed. (Or at least what we had to work with.) Since then, I've been more inspired to cook lots of "real" food versus all of the treats and appetizers and snacks the holidays always bring on. I made Julia Turshen's curried red lentils for the millionth time, a wintry whole grain salad with tuna and fennel, roasted potatoes, and this simple green minestrone that I've taken for lunch this week. Determined to fit as many seasonal vegetables into a bowl as humanly possible, I spooned a colorful pesto on top, as much for the reminder of warmer days to come as for the accent in the soup (and for the enjoyment later of slathering the leftover pesto on crusty bread).
If I asked you about what you like to cook at home when the week gets busy, I'm willing to bet it might be something simple. While there are countless websites and blogs and innumerable resources to find any kind of recipe we may crave, it's often the simple, repetitive dishes that we've either grown up with or come to love that call to us when cooking (or life in general) seems overwhelming or when we're feeling depleted. While my go-to is typically breakfast burritos or whole grain bowls, this Curried Cauliflower Couscous with Chickpeas and Chard would make one very fine, very doable house meal on rotation. The adaptations are endless, and its made from largely pantry ingredients. I never thought I'd hop on the cauliflower "rice" bandwagon, but I have to say after making it a few times, I get the hype.
People describe raising young kids as a particular season in life. I hadn't heard this until we had a baby, but it brought me a lot of comfort when I'd start to let my mind wander, late at night between feedings, to fears that we'd never travel internationally again or have a sit-down meal in our dining room. Would I ever eat a cardamom bun in Sweden? Soak in Iceland? I loved the heck out of our tiny Oliver, but man what had we done?! Friends would swoop in and reassure us that this was just a season, a blip in the big picture of it all. They promised we'd likely not even remember walking around the house in circles singing made-up songs while eating freezer burritos at odd hours of the day (or night). And it's true.
Oliver is turning two next month, and those all-encompassing baby days feel like a different time, a different Us. In many ways, dare I say it, Toddlerhood actually feels a bit harder. Lately Oliver has become extremely opinionated about what he will and will not wear -- and he enforces these opinions with fervor. Don't get near the kid with a button-down shirt. This week at least. He's obsessed with his rain boots and if it were up to him, he'd keep them on at all times, especially during meals. He insists on ketchup with everything (I created a damn monster), has learned the word "trash" and insists on throwing found items away on his own that really, truly are not trash. I came to pick him up from daycare the other day and he was randomly wearing a bike helmet -- his teacher mentioned he'd had it on most of the day and really, really didn't want to take it off. The kid has FEELINGS. I love that about him, and wouldn't want it any other way. But, man it's also exhausting.
It's been a uniformly gray and rainy week in Seattle, and I'd planned on making a big pot of salmon chowder to have for the weekend, but then the new issue of Bon Appetit landed on my doorstep with that inviting "Pies for Dinner" cover, and I started to think about how long it's been since I made my very favorite recipe from my cookbook, Whole Grain Mornings. I'm often asked at book events which recipe I love most, and it's a tough one to answer because I have favorites for different moods or occasions, but I'd say that this savory tart is right up there. The cornmeal millet crust is one of my party tricks; when we need a quick brunch recipe, this is what I pull out of my back pocket because it's so simple and delicious. This is a no-roll, no fuss crust with a slightly sandy, crumbly texture thanks to the cornmeal, and a delightful crunch from the millet. In the past, I've used the crust and custard recipe as the base for any number of fillings: on The Kitchn last year, I did a version with greens and gruyere, and I teach cooking classes that often include a version heavy on local mushrooms and shallot. So if you are not keen on salmon or have some vegetables you're looking to use up this week, feel free to fold in whatever is inspiring you right now. Sometimes at this point in winter that can be hard, so hopefully this recipe may help a little.